Reparo
by Mignun
Summary: Harry and Hermione are sent to Bristol by the Ministry to uncover the truth about the vampires living there. Only, Hermione didn't expect her sire and his supernatural friends to be living across the street.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** As usual, I have a great idea that I need to get down. This came to me after watching the first season of Being Human, and loving Harry Potter and all, I decided to merge them. Believe it or not it was quite simple. The not simple part is writing it all! Granted, I'm more of a thinker than a writer (as you'll see when you read). I'm the type of writer who wishes to get the idea out there. As my usual spiel, if you enjoy it, please review, alert, favor it. Your feedback means a lot, and this is also unbeta-ed. So if you see anything wrong, please tell me.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

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**Chapter One**

Hermione drew the cigarette away from her mouth, eyes trained on the house in front of her. It was a nice home, situated between six and ten, painted white unlike that gaudy pink house on the corner. So far her opinion of Windsor Terrace had been a positive one. It seemed like a nice neighborhood with its neighbors already nodding their heads at her. The nice gestures from the community had raised her spirits a bit, and she grinned when she recalled flustering a man with glasses that came out of the pink house. The smile she gave made him blush, and she could hear him sputtering under his breath from where she stood. That boosted her confidence even more, sending her into a fit of giggles.

With a spring in her step, Hermione bounded up to the stoop and sat down, all while surveying the area. An elderly couple walked hand in hand across the street, the possible wife giggling something from what her possible husband said. Hermione smiled at the couple, wondering if she could ever have that.

_Of course you can't_, a nasty voice reminded her. Hermione felt her hair stand on end, yet she was familiar with the niggling, horrible voice. _Unless you marry Harry or find _him, _you won't find anyone like you._

Hermione shuddered as she suppressed the minor demon. She took a deep breath, calmly telling the voice to fuck off before bringing the cigarette to her lips. She inhaled the tobacco, tasting the savory wisp that filled her lungs. With a huff the voice left, leaving Hermione with more positive and important thoughts, like when the hell Harry would arrive with the truck.

Getting bored, Hermione took out her iPod and placed the ear buds within her ears. Soon an American band blasted loudly from the headphones, the lead singer crooning about a lost love. Eyes closed, Hermione tapped her fingers on the concrete and bobbed her head along, singing the lyrics quietly to herself. She was so engrossed in her music that she failed to hear footsteps come up to her, but she shrieked when the ear buds were ripped from her ears. Looking up, she paled when she saw the all too familiar black eyes glaring down at her.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" snarled Mitchell, fangs protruding from his gums. Hermione's mouth dropped, and for a moment she felt like a fish out of water.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied coolly once she regained her voice.

"I'm serious, Hermione." His voice sounded calmer as his eyes softened to their natural brown. Hermione closed her eyes, wishing that he would just go away. The vampire in her growled, sprouting obscenities and rude gestures at him.

_He turned you, _it reminded her. _Kill him! Kill him now! There's no one watching..._

Shaking her head, Hermione's Gryffindor courage rose within her chest, and she dared to open her eyes. He hadn't changed at all during the last eight years, she mused. Then again, she also thought, he hadn't changed in almost a hundred years. Taking a deep breath in she explained, "I'm here on business."

"Business?" he repeated with a scoff. "What business do you have here in Bristol?"

"It's classified," she explained with her voice crackling, courage betraying her. "Now I'd appreciate it if you leave. My friend won't be as kindly as I'm treating you now."

Mitchell remained quiet as he stared down at the young woman in front of him. She still had the obscenely bushy hair that was tied up in a loose bun. Her eyes were still a sparkling hazel, forever bright and so damn inviting. Her clothing style had changed she he left her, with her wearing a dark leather jacket and dark clothing underneath (compared to the bright, _cheery_ clothes she once worn). The only vibrant part of her - apart from her eyes that is - was the familiar Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck, possibly hiding the scar that he left there eight years ago.

_Forever stuck as a twenty year old because of you, _his own nasty voice sneered at him. _Pretty little thing you ruined. Not really a shock, though, is it?_

He sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair. "Do you want to get a drink or something?"

"I can't," she replied briskly. At his dumbfounded expression she explained, "I'm waiting for my friend. We're moving in here."

"Then why not afterward?" he asked, a hint of hope laced in his voice. Hermione bit her bottom lip and shook her head. "Then whenever you aren't busy? You can bring your friend as well. I'll buy you some rounds, get you used to Bristol."

"No," came the meek response. "I'm here strictly on business."

"It can't all be business," he reasoned, but Hermione shook her head once more. "Why are you here, Hermione?"

"As I said before, I'm here on business, business for the Ministry," she clarified. A rumble broke her gaze as a large truck drove down the street, with a sports car following it. "Look, my friend is here now, and he won't want to meet you. He's not very friendly."

Mitchell scoffed. "Then what a lovely friend you have." Glancing at the truck, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He inhaled the tobacco slowly as he eyed Hermione. She sat there, eyes glued to the truck, a sense of annoyance on her face. "I'll leave you be. Hey, why don't you and your friend come over later tonight to meet my roommates? We can make an evening out of it."

"I'll talk to Harry about it," she replied stiffly, sucking on her bottom lip. Hermione watched him go, crossing the street before entering the pink house on the corner. With a long sigh of relief, Hermione lit up another cigarette. The tobacco calmed her thoughts the moment the taste was on her tongue, and for a moment she was glad to be undead as the smoke couldn't affect her lungs. There was one positive thing, she told herself as the truck came to a halt in front of her. Two movers hopped out of the truck and went to the back, unloading all of their belongings. Harry stepped out of the black BMW, wearing his usual dark blazer and green jumper. Bright green eyes gleamed merrily at her before he pulled her into a bone crushing hug.

"Get here okay, yeah?" he asked, but his eyes turned black the moment he smelled a specific scent on her. "You've already met another vampire. Not even an hour into it, and you've been tainted. Figures."

Hermione sighed as she fell into Harry, tears falling freely from her eyes. Harry's eyes immediately turned back to their vibrant green. "He's here, Harry. The one who turned me."

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry soothed, rubbing Hermione's back. The witch sniffled and hiccupped into his shoulder. "I'll fucking kill that bastard when I see him."

"Then get your stake ready, he wants us to meet him and his roommates tonight," she snorted, a small giggle escaping her lips. Harry patted her lower back, a reassuring gesture that made her feel a bit better. With a sigh, Hermione told him, "I can't believe that the first vampire I met was him. Out of all the vampires in Bristol, he was the one we had to be neighbors with!"

"Just let me take care of it," Harry replied. "Which house does he live in?"

"Harry," Hermione warned, but Harry began glancing at the houses in Windsor Terrace. "Seriously, Harry, I don't want you to kill him. We're just after the head vampire, remember?"

Harry snorted. "Oh please, he turned us, Hermione," he said lowly. He smiled brightly at the movers as they began moving the living room furniture into the house. When they were out of ear shot, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Though, you're right. We can't start killing any vampire we see. Is he still clean?"

"Dunno." Hermione shrugged. "It didn't come up in conversation."

"Well, do you think he knows who the head of this is?" Harry wondered, ignoring the taken aback expression on Hermione's face. "It would make things a hell of a lot easier if he knows what we need to know."

"Harry, no way! We're not getting him involved in this!" she squeaked, the movers staring at her in curiosity. Bringing her head closer to Harry's she explained, "I don't want him anywhere near us, Harry. I want to go in and go out. No roadblocks. I can't risk him getting close to us."

"You mean you can't risk him getting close to you. Again," Harry pointed out. Hermione glared at him. "Okay, okay! I get your point. We can't let that Mitchell character know what we're getting into. I won't befriend him just to use him. I won't even greet him on the street...even though I don't even have a clue what he looks like. You made him out to seem like a scary bloke."

"He lives in the pink house," Hermione explained, nodding her head to the gaudy colored house. "He invited us to join them tonight, you know."

"You said that," Harry commented lightly. "You think we should go?"

"I'm not really up to it."

"Then we won't go."

"Thank you, Harry."

The two stood outside of their new home, Hermione puffing on her cigarette with Harry fumbling with the hem of his blazer. A mover came out and asked for some help, and the two obliged. Without magic, both Harry and Hermione began moving boxes into the house, placing each box in the labeled room. Hermione took care of the kitchen and her room while Harry took care of the knick knacks for the living room, as well as the items for his own room.

By the end of the day, the movers were gone, leaving the two to sort everything out. Everything went smoothly, to say the least. They managed to get everything in its proper place through the use of magic. Clothes were sorted, plates were placed within cabinets, and throw rugs were on the wooden flooring.

It was fine until there was a knock on the door.

Harry had been the one to go and answer it, and he was greeted with three smiling faces. Two men stared down at him, one with dark hair and eyes, the other with light hair and wearing glasses. A female with curly hair stood between them with a casserole dish. Harry mentally sighed. It seemed as if the welcoming committee had come to introduce themselves.

"Harry? Who's at the door?" Hermione called from the kitchen, busy making supper.

"Not a clue!" he shouted back. He nodded at them with a bemused expression on his face. "Er, who are you?"

"I'm George," the man wearing glasses introduced. "This is Annie." He pointed to the bubbly girl with the steaming food. "And this is Mitchell." He slapped the back of the surly looking man, and at the name, Harry's eyes narrowed. "Annie thought it best if we introduced ourselves, though I felt it wasn't needed. We'd see each other out on the street! Ha..."

Harry nodded kindly at them. "Will you excuse me for just a minute?"

"Of course!" Annie said brightly, allowing Harry to shut the door and move to the kitchen. There he was met with Hermione dancing around while cooking, singing off key to the song that played on the radio. Snapping his fingers, the music turned off, stopping Hermione from her barbaric dancing.

"There's a damn werewolf, vampire, and ghost outside!"

"Whoa, what?" she demanded as Harry grabbed at his hair and began to pull at it.

"I said, there's a werewolf, vampire, and ghost outside our door as the neighborhood welcoming committee." He hissed that time. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Is one named Mitchell?"

"Yes, the one who looked like he sucked a lemon?"

"Shit! That would be him," Hermione groaned, settling the plate of chicken down on the counter. Taking a seat at the table, she placed her elbows on the wood, cradling her head. "We can't let them in. We can't be associating with them! The nerve of him, though, bringing them over. I swear, when I get my hands on him..."

"Think about that later, Hermione," Harry suggested. "We have a bigger problem. Our neighbors are supernaturals, and they're standing right outside our stoop. What the fuck are we going to do? The ghost is carrying a casserole for Merlin's sake!"

Hermione, however, thought hard. Part of her told her to go outside and tell them all to leave. The other part of her wanted to play hostess and invite them inside. With a frustrated groan, Hermione made her decision. "Oh, just let them in. Maybe if we play house for one night they'll leave us alone."

Harry put on a brave face and went to the door. As he thought, the three were still outside the door, the ghost still bubbly while her friends looked as if they didn't want to be there. "Sorry about that. Needed to talk to the Misses. Come in. Come in." Eyeing Mitchell he said especially, "You're all allowed in."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for all the feedback! It means a lot that people are reading this story. I'm trying my best to write this story, as I have so many ideas for it. This chapter took me a while to write, but I'm happy with how it came out. As I usually say, please review, favorite, or alert if you like it. I'm currently thankful for those who already have done so. Again, if you see any problems just message me, and I'll take care of any errors. I've been trying my best to do it by myself, as I haven't found a beta yet. If you are interested, though, just message me and we can see what we can do! Again, I'm just writing this to get the idea out of my head. This is solely written for the idea!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

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**Chapter Two**

Harry wanted to reach across the table and slit Mitchell's throat. It was a strong feeling, and it took all of his inner strength not to lash out. He prevented his eyes from turning black and kept his fangs at bay. He couldn't create such a mess during supper, but Mitchell just looked so smug sitting there, laughing at Annie's jokes, like he didn't realize his old girlfriend was sitting across from him with tears in her eyes. Harry hated him. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the knife in his hand, itching to dive it deep into the vampire's neck. A cold hand placed on his free one brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Hermione nod at him meaningfully. Harry immediately calmed down, loosening his tight grip on the utensil.

Supper remained a quiet affair with only Annie telling jokes to lighten the tension. It didn't work. Harry and Hermione just didn't know what to say to the supernatural beings, and the two had been curt in any questions they answered.

When Hermione had enough of playing homemaker, she declared that it was time for dessert and began clearing the plates while Mitchell and George still ate. George was polite and helped her clean up, snatching a chicken leg when she wasn't looking. Mitchell, however, stared at her in disbelief when she sauntered into the kitchen with Harry hot on her heels.

"We need to get them out of here," Harry hissed when the door closed. He took his time scouring the refrigerator. "Can't you lie and say we have no dessert? I mean, we just moved in. They can't expect us to be fully stocked already."

"Harry! Just shut up!" Hermione demanded as she scraped chicken bones into the rubbish bin. Her hair was a mess; small tendrils of curls popped out of the tight bun on top of her head. Harry slammed the refrigerator door shut, eyes narrowed at his friend. Flinging the dishes into the sink, Hermione cursed when one of them shattered. When she went to clean it up, she cried out in pain when she sliced her forefinger. Harry felt his eyes flash to black as when he saw the blood. "No, Harry. We have guests for crying out loud!"

The wizard, however, took a step forward, licking his lips. "We haven't fed this week, Hermione. Please? Just a little taste?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Hermione muttered under her breath. Harry grinned toothily and brought her finger into his mouth, fangs slightly drawing on her skin. Hermione felt herself shudder when Harry's tongue ghosted along her finger, lapping up the blood that came from the gash. She was so distracted that she failed to hear the door open and Annie popping into the room.

"Oh my God!" the ghost exclaimed, dropping the fine china to the ground. Harry bit down on Hermione's finger in shock, causing the witch to curse in pain. Annie, however, stood there dumbfounded as she watched the scene. "I'm so sorry to interrupt. If I had known, I would've knocked on the door! I'll be outside!"

The squeaking ghost left, leaving a very confused Harry and Hermione. The latter looked down at her healed finger and wondered if Annie had seen the blood.

_Of course she did_, the nauseating inner voice commented lightly. _Nothing will ever go your way. The secret's out!_

"We should go do some damage control," Harry stated, wiping his lips with his sleeve.

* * *

Damage control consisted of admitting that they didn't have dessert and throwing the three out. While they had been kinder in doing the former, Harry became particularly nasty after Mitchell said having no dessert was fine. The vampire looked cozy sitting on the couch with George sitting next to him. There was something that made the tips of Hermione's ears blaze. When they entered the room, they found Annie demonstrating what she saw in the kitchen to George and Mitchell. After that embarrassment, Hermione allowed Harry to be as curt as possible, just to get the three out of their house.

So the witch and wizard found themselves in the living room with the telly on after kicking their guests out. Neither of them were paying much attention to it, though. Hermione busied herself with a massive tome on her lap, a potions book if Harry read the title right. Harry, however, read the latest edition of the _Daily Prophet_, humming to himself here and there whenever he found an interesting article. The biggest news was that a man by the name of Rolf Scamander found another few uses of dragon blood, and Harry felt a bit proud for the former Hufflepuff, husband to his dear friend, Luna.

"Luna has found a good man," he commented idly, flipping to the next page of the newspaper. Hermione nodded, too busy engrossed in her newest book. "Are we going to talk about this evening or no?"

"Nope," Hermione murmured. "I think this is one of the worst evenings we've ever had. I think it even beats some of our adventures."

Harry contemplated her statement, cocking his head to the side. "You know what? You're absolutely right. It's also one of the few evenings I've wanted to kill someone."

"Kill someone?" Hermione inquired, closing her book. She leaned forward in her chair, waiting for Harry to respond. "Oh, you're still going on about Mitchell, aren't you? Well, you have nothing to worry about; we're not associating with him ever again."

"But he just sat there so smugly, and then he started glancing at you like a lost puppy!" Harry exclaimed, throwing the _Daily Prophet_ to the ground. "I wanted to slit his throat, Hermione. He smells horrible, but I would have been fine draining him dry. The audacity that vampire has, thinking he could have stayed longer than he could! Thank God for the whole vampires need to be invited inside the house bit. Imagine if we didn't have that power over him."

"True, but you shouldn't get yourself worked up so. It'll raise your blood pressure."

"Damn my blood pressure! I'm already dead!"

The two lapsed into silence, the only sound coming from the television. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, slightly annoyed with Harry. She could understand the dislike radiating from him, but she knew that there were more important matters to discuss. "Why don't we stop talking about him and talk about the head vampire. Hmm?"

Harry visibly calmed down. "You're right, we have that to discuss."

"Where do you think we should start?" she asked, placing her book on the small table next to her. "Vampires like to work close to the public. Kingsley said we should scour the police force first, then the hospital."

"Leave it to those bloodsuckers to invade the mortal life," Harry scoffed. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that look! Muggle vampires are a lot worse than we are. You said so yourself!"

"I know what I said, and I know what I read," Hermione reasoned. "We're not as dangerous, but there are some Muggle vampires who go clean. Maybe we should find them first; they'll be less of a threat."

Harry nodded. "You're right, but how do we find a vampire?"

"I dunno," Hermione replied. "Smell them?"

"Smell them?" Harry barked, corners of his lips turning upward. "So we just mosey down to the police and smell every member of the force? That's rich!"

"What else are we supposed to do?" Hermione argued, eyes narrowed. Harry shrugged, the question repeating in his head. "Look, we can discuss more of this tomorrow. I'm so tired, and it's not even eight o'clock!"

"Want to do some magic?" Harry asked, pulling out his wand. With a swish of his wrist, his Patronus erupted from the tip of his wand. Hermione giggled, letting her wand fall freely from her wrist sheath. Harry allowed his Patronus to walk around the living room, prancing about when it was joined by Hermione's otter. Both animals began playing, the stag chasing after the smaller animal. The witch and wizard giggled hysterically as they battled it out, their animal chasing the other.

Everything stopped when there was a knock at the door. Turning to face the doorway, Hermione blanched. George stood there behind the window, eyes wide. Cursing, Harry ended his spell and stood up. He strode to the door, his short legs guiding him. Throwing open the door, he pulled George in, not caring if he harmed him.

"How much did you see?" he demanded, shoving George into the nearest armchair. George stared up at Harry, pure horror etched on his face. "Answer me!"

"I saw you do magic!" George sputtered.

"Damn it, I thought I closed the blinds," Hermione muttered to herself, ending her own spell. "It can't be that bad, Harry. We know what he is, so we have some leverage."

"Leverage?" George squeaked. "I just came over because I forgot my jacket!"

Harry glared at the werewolf and snarled, "So you decided to peek into our window like a nosy busybody?"

Hermione stood up from her seat and grasped Harry's arm. "Harry, calm down. There's no reason for you to let your anger out on George. He didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who fucked up."

"Doesn't matter, he still saw us," Harry replied, a bit calmer than he had previously acted. He turned towards George. "Now, what shall we do with you?"

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, wondering why her friend was being so harsh. She pulled at his sleeve, trying to get him out of the trance he was in. Seeing his eyes turn black, she gasped and shook his shoulders. "Harry, snap out of it! Harry!"

"Mitchell just said you were vampires!" George yelped, trying to get out of Harry's grip. When he failed, he howled, "Get off of me you monster!"

"I'm not a monster," Harry roared, using his strength to pick George up and threw him to the ground. Gasping for breath, he repeated, "I'm not a monster."

George brought his hands up to his face to protect himself as Hermione tried to calm Harry down. The wizard continued to gasp for breath as he sat down in the previously used armchair, bent over. He began to breathe slowly to try to catch his breath. Hermione sat down on the armrest, consoling her friend. "It's okay, Harry. Just breathe."

"What just happened?" George moaned from his spot on the ground. Hermione turned her attention to the fallen werewolf.

"I think it's time for you to go," she said quietly. "Grab your jacket and leave. This is the last time we'll be seeing each other."

George complied and went to the dining room where his jacket was on the back of a chair. Quickly grabbing it, the werewolf up and left in a hurry. Harry stayed in his position and current state, crying softly. "What did I just do, Hermione? The beast just came out."

"I know, Harry. I know."

"I didn't mean to!" Harry cried, bringing his hands to his head. He began pulling at his hair. "This night has been totally stressful. Why did we have to move here again? We were better at the cottage."

"We're here to stop bad guys," Hermione replied soothingly. "We're here to do a job, a job that we're both good at. There's no turning back, Harry. We must do our job, and I'll make sure that the beast doesn't come back out."

"You're right." Harry hiccuped. "We're here for a job, not to make friends. I still feel horrible for doing that to George of all people. He was quite kind during dinner."

Hermione patted him on the head affectionately. "If you're feeling that bad, you can go over there tomorrow and apologize. I bet he'll take your apology once you explain to him what happened. He must deal with Mitchell all the time."

Harry snorted. "Mitchell, that arse."

"An arse indeed," Hermione murmured. "I'm surprised that he didn't tell Annie and George what we truly were. I made it known right away that I was a witch when we first started dating."

"Maybe he forgot?" Harry suggested. Hermione shook her head.

"No, I freely used magic in front of him all the time. There is no way he could forget," she said wistfully. "You should've seen his face when I first performed magic. I thought he was going to have a heart attack!"

"That would have been helpful, no?" Harry asked, chuckling a bit. "Then we wouldn't be in the state we are now."

The atmosphere turned solemn at Harry's words. Hermione sighed deeply, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

"It's not your fault; it's my own."

"You could've stopped me."

"It's not your fault."

"It's all my fault, Harry! I stopped your life because I was hungry! Even if you did say no, I'm pretty sure that I still would've killed you!" Hermione cried, tears freely falling down her face. Harry sighed, bringing a hand to her face to wipe the tears away. Hermione continued to sob. "If I didn't get turned, everything would be different. You'd be married to Ginny, and I would be married to some random _normal_ man. It's unfair, Harry, to blame yourself. It's all my fault. It's all my fault…"

Harry continued to wipe her tears away. "We can argue as much as we want, but what happened has happened. There's no reason to keep bringing it up. If I could speak, I'd say that I'm happy just the way I am."

"You're lying," Hermione accused, hiccuping. Harry shook his head.

"No, I'm not. Now that I'm used to being a vampire, I'm fine with who I am. Yes, some days I wish I could change it, but I've adapted. You've adapted, too. We're not normal vampires, Hermione. Being magical vampires has its perks."

"You're just saying that to make me stop crying."

Harry didn't know what else to say. Part of him wanted to make her laugh, to wipe all the tears away from her face. The other part of him just didn't know what would make her feel better. It had been true, though, what he said about the perks. Muggle vampires were different than magical ones, especially when it came down to magic. With a sigh, Harry wrapped his arms around his friend and pulled her closer. "I don't know what to say to make you stop crying, so I'll just allow you to use my t-shirt as a tissue."

That made Hermione giggle madly. "I'm glad that I can, Harry."

Hermione wiggled her body until she was in the armchair squeezed next to Harry. Head on his chest, Hermione sighed when he began to hum a familiar and popular song. She smiled when she joined in, singing under her breath.

"Harry?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"I wanted to slit his throat."

"Me too, Hermione. Me too."


End file.
